Six Days
by skymateria
Summary: Demyx falls over a quiet stranger on a bridge, and from this one curious accident, his life changes. Rated M for things. Including yaoi. Demyx POV.
1. Chapter 1  Tuesday

I love the way that sound just falls away in water, becoming nothing more than quiet rumbling in the background. I love the sweet sting if you dare to open your eyes, and I love the silken touch of reeds and sand beneath you.

I love the river, because it's peaceful.

This sultry August afternoon was just like any of my other summer holiday afternoons, spent swimming slowly through the shallow, cool waters, only returning to dry land to eat, or to check the time; I may have been sixteen, but by the way my mother reacted if I was home five minutes late, you'd have thought I was five years old.

The water was just the right temperature on this particular Tuesday afternoon. None of the little village kids had ventured out today, so there was none of the debris floating about that they would've kicked up playing, either. The little family of otters I was so fond of lay on the river bank, the pups scrapping cheerfully in the dirt. It was the sort of thing you see on a postcard. Then again, I'm hard-pressed to think of a more picturesque, postcard-worthy place than the River Myde. I was blessed to be born into more or less the most perfect little village in the whole UK.

I know very well that I could've stayed swimming there all day, amongst the reeds, but time passes. When the sky began to bloody with the setting sun, I finally crawled ashore, content at least that it had been an immensely enjoyable day, if not similar to all the others so far this vacation.

As per usual, I pulled the towel around my shoulders, picked up my bag and headed for home, sighing a little at the way my flip-flops squelched while I walked. That's something that's always annoyed me after I swim; such an artificial, intrusive sound seems almost rude in such a tranquil environment. Think whatever you want of me, but it's just one of my stupid little pet hates.

I realised, quite quickly, that I was especially hungry this evening. I had come out pretty early in the morning, and all I'd actually eaten in the last day was a jam sandwich, and that had been about five hours ago now. My mind began to wander shortly towards thoughts of home, and dinner, the way a teenager's mind does.

It must've wandered a little too far into the distance, as I can't think of any other reason which might've caused me to fall over the small lump of person sitting on the bridge.

I fell rather chaotically to the floor, swearing coarsely in surprise and scowling at the unforgiving scrape of chicken mesh on my elbows, reflexively twisting around once I was on the ground to see what it was I'd stumbled on.

He was quite small, but looked about my age; a serious-looking boy with curious, iron grey hair falling across about half of his face. His eyes were piercing, but he didn't really look very upset that I'd tripped on him – just a little bit surprised. I couldn't really blame him, I guess.

Slowly, I heaved myself into a sitting position, scratching absentmindedly at the back of my head in embarrassment. He just continued to stare at me, as if waiting for me to say something. Maybe he was.

"...Damn, I'm so sorry about that...! Wasn't looking where I was going...sorry..."

He remained silent for a few more seconds, just enough time for me to start worrying about whether or not I'd been forgiven. Eventually his pale lips parted, and he replied in a soft voice, like a breeze on water.

"Don't worry about it."

It may have just been those four words, spoken in a disinterested, dull tone, but there was something utterly bizarre about him that instantly made me curious. I still don't know just what it was – maybe it was just my ridiculously friendly personality – but I _had _to start a conversation with the kid I'd just fallen over.

His apparent lack of life made this difficult.

"...I haven't seen you around here before," I mumbled, wriggling a little until I sat beside him on the bridge, legs dangled over the edge, watching the evening dragonflies skimming the river below us, making ripples. He stared down at the water too, and I wondered vaguely what he thought of me. "Are you new around here...?"

I waited for a while for his reply. Somehow, even his dead tone sounded mysterious to me, intriguing, and I was willing to wait for his coldness to lift.

"I'm on vacation."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "You don't sound so thrilled about it."

He shrugged briefly, brittle shoulders moving in a slightly jerky way, smiling wryly, eyes vaguely following the carp moving just underneath the water's surface. I don't know how they got into the river, but they sure were beautiful. "I'm not."

Interested though I was, I kind of wished he'd give me a little more to work with. I paused, mulling over my words carefully before I attempted a reply, trying to perhaps get a grin out of him. "Countryside not your thing, then?"

He half smiled, and I found the sight strangely saddening, and it wasn't long before I knew why. "Oh, it's not that. My sister's only got a couple of weeks left, she wanted to come down to see Nana one last time."

The silence following his answer was longer than I'd have liked, and extremely awkward. He didn't seem miserable. Just empty. I sighed heavily, scratching at my hair again. He was going to think I had lice if I didn't stop doing that.

"...Oh, I'm sorry, man..." I murmured, and he merely shrugged again.

"Not your fault, is it?"

That's an extremely good point. Why do we always say sorry when people tell us terrible things? There's so many weird little things people do, huh?

We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the kingfishers hidden by the reeds and leaves. I half considered getting up and leaving, seeing as he didn't seem to be feeling too talkative. It seemed like it would've been a considerate thing to do; he probably needed some time to be alone, I thought. But before I could even make to get up, he spoke again. I had to listen closely to hear his voice. It very quiet, but it seemed to have some melody to it which made me want to hear it. It almost irritated me how he seemed to be having this surreal effect with hardly any words.

"What's your name..? If you don't mind my asking..."

I blinked a little, surprised. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't think to introduce myself... I'm Demyx. I live just across the fields, on the edge of the village." I pointed ahead, to the crest of a hill about half a mile away, where a couple of buildings nestled among the trees.

My quiet new acquaintance nodded slowly, following my gesture. "I see. My name's Zexion."

I smiled. It was nice that he finally seemed to be taking some small interest in keeping the conversation going. "Cool... So, um... How long are you staying here for?"

"Just until Sunday," he murmured, swinging his feet and sighing quietly. "We're staying in the bed and breakfast."

"The one down Skye Lane, right..?" That was the only B&B I could think of in the village. "That's just at the other end of my road."

Zexion smiled faintly, still watching the ripples and splashes of the fish below us. "Yes, that's the one," he replied softly. Neither of us spoke for a moment. It didn't feel as uncomfortable as the other silences so far, though. More like a companionable sort of silence. And when he spoke again, it suddenly occurred to me that it _had _been a silence worth enduring.

"Maybe... If you're not doing anything, maybe we could hang out tomorrow..? I just... I can't stand the atmosphere right now, with my family..."

I looked up from the water, and gave him the friendliest smile I was physically capable of, pleased that he looked up and made actual eye contact this time. "Hey, that sounds like a good idea! Of course we can!"

He looked relieved. "Thanks... It sounds stupid... But I need to get out... Hang out with someone my own age, just for a bit..." I shook my head firmly.

"It doesn't sound stupid at all. Is there anything specific you feel like doing?"

He shrugged, making to stand up. My gaze flickered momentarily to my watch, and I realised quite suddenly that I should really get going, too.

"Not really... Just talking would be good, if that's ok with you..?"

I nodded. "Sure. We could go sit in the Yellow Meadow, just over there..." I pointed again, to the lurid yellow field over to our left, positively blinding with buttercups. "I'll bring my sitar. We can chat as long as you want."

The smile he returned was tentative, but I could tell he was privately pretty excited about this, just as I was. It made me happy to have made a friend. And it sounded like he had a pretty trying near-future ahead... The responsibility of trying to keep him distracted from that felt inexplicably special.

"Well... I'd better get back now. It's getting late."

I nodded, quickly scuffling to my feet and beginning to walk in the general direction of my house, little more that a silhouette at present against the orange glow of twilight. "Same. My mum has a habit of flipping out if I'm home late... She's a bit over protective, I guess."

Zexion nodded in recognition of my words, walking along quietly beside me; his steps were very light and gentle, and the only thing to signal his presence was the swish of the dry grass around his knees. I liked it when people walked so carefully through nature as I myself did.

"My mum used to be a lot like that," he murmured, the halfhearted evening breeze tugging a little on his words. "But when Xion got sick, she sort of fixated on her. As long as eventually I do come home, she's not that fussed these days..." He clearly intended his tone to be nonchalant, but I could hear the vague twist of pain underneath.

We wandered in silence for a few minutes, gradually scaling the hill, both of us a little out of breath by the time we reached the top. I came to a halt by the little pathway that led directly into my back garden, staring down it vacantly for a moment before I looked back to my new friend.

"Well... That's me. Should I come by the B&B tomorrow morning at...nine, say?"

A calm nod. The strange, steely hair swished a little with the movement, and I found myself curiously fascinated by it. It seemed too chaotic, too...normal, to happen to such a silent, dark boy.

"Cool... Well, I'll be seeing you, then."

I turned away and began to walk towards the house, stopping instantly as I heard my name being called out; still, his voice was soft and controlled, but the wind carried it to me easily.

"Demyx... Thank you for talking to me."

The sincerity of strangers is such a rare thing, I thought fleetingly to myself, smiling for no reason I could fully explain and inclining my head just slightly to the side as I continued to walk homewards.

"Hey, no problem. Tomorrow we can do it again."


	2. Chapter 2  Wednesday

I set out at ten to nine the following morning, not wanting to keep my new acquaintance waiting for me, rubbing the last of the sleepy dust from my eyes as I left the house and setting off at a leisurely pace towards Skye Lane. I wondered vaguely how much money Zexion's family must have; petite as it was, the place they were staying in cost a pretty penny, even for just a few days. Then again, it was in a beautiful location. Once again, I found myself adoring my quaint little village; it was so easily done.

By the time I reached the B&B, my new friend was already waiting for me, gazing stoically at the fleecy morning clouds, hands thrust deep into his pockets. I approached slowly, not entirely sure if he'd noticed me yet. None of his detached air had disappeared overnight, clearly. But then, I hadn't really expected it to.

His evident distraction gave me a decent opportunity to look him over, just because I liked to do that when I saw people. He was dressed relatively casually, just like yesterday, and I noticed for the first time the pewter chain around his neck. I looked a little bit closer, and saw that upon the tag which hung on it was engraved the single word "Xion". I felt a small stab of pity in my heart. He might not say such, but it was pretty clear to me that he really loved his sister. I didn't even want to think about what he was going to do when she passed away.

Eventually his gaze dropped from the heavens and arrived on me, quickly appraising my own appearance; I noticed his eyes lingering on my sitar, slung carefully over my shoulder, by far the most curious thing on my person today. It's an uncommon enough instrument in the first place, but I think mine was probably a pretty one-of-a-kind specimen.

I smiled in greeting, in what I hoped was a friendly and reassuring manner, and was pleased to receive a similar grin in return. The small boy walked forwards quietly, and I marvelled again at the calm with which he moved. So few people were like that now.

"Hi..." he murmured, the ghost of that smile still just about clinging to his pale lips. It must have been a struggle, what with all the things in his mind.

"Hey Zexion... How're you doing?" I asked, turning slowly and beginning to amble in the general direction of the meadow, my eyes staying on his one visible eye. Once again, a dark sheet of his hair fell across his right eye, and I found myself wondering absently, quite by accident, why he chose to hide half of such a pretty face.

"I'm alright," he replied softly, hands still awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans as he shuffled along beside me, looking straight ahead, almost as if in a trance. He seemed reluctant to expand further, and I decided not to push it. "How about you?"

"Not so bad... I was rockin' out on this until about midnight, it was awesome..." I grinned, patting the neck of instrument on my back fondly, hoping that I might be able to somehow start a proper conversation with him. To my mild surprise, it actually worked.

"Sounds like fun... Are you into music, then?"

I couldn't hold back the triumphant little grin that found its way onto my face, quickly looking away until I could get rid of it. I didn't want him to think I was really weird or something. But I had done it..! He was talking. I was bonding.

"Yeah, I'm into quite a lot of different stuff, really... Rock, punk, metal... Especially techno, though, I love a good bass line..."

He nodded slowly, a small, more refined smile taking to his lips too, as we made our way slowly down the wooded path that wove down the hill. I loved that path, with its unkempt feel, and the dappled summer sunlight which shyly shone through. It could be pretty treacherous when it was wet, but right now it was dry as a bone, and the gnarled old roots provided useful footholds as we cautiously made our way down.

"...So, uh, what about you..? Do you play anything, are you into different kinds of music...?"

Zexion half smiled in a way that was almost forlorn before he spoke again, continuing his descent down the hillside with all the elegance of a deer, totally confidant in his balance. "Don't think me a lesser person, but I'm quite fond of classical music... Especially Chopin, he was an incredible composer... And yes, I actually play piano... Again, mostly classical pieces..."

"Hey, hey, I wouldn't think you a lesser person..! I know what you mean, classical can be really relaxing... Piano, huh? I've always liked piano, it can sound really amazing when it's done just right..." I murmured thoughtfully, huffing softly as we reached the bottom of the hill, smiling as the sunlight hit me full on again, warm and gentle. I gestured unnecessarily to the dazzling yellow field before us and turned to Zexion again, wondering what his reaction to it might be. "Well, ah... Here we are. This is the Yellow Meadow... Or at least, that's what I call it. Bet you can't guess why."

The slate-haired boy gazed across the seemingly endless flowers with an expression of wonderment, and this time I allowed the smile that seeing him happy summoned. Maybe they were only flowers, but there were a lot, and I'd always thought it was a surprisingly touching sight. I was glad Zexion seemed to think so, too.

We walked quietly up the gentle slope of the field until we reached somewhere close to the very centre, and I sat myself down carefully, pulling my sitar into my lap as I did so and patting the ground beside me for Zexion to sit down as well. He obliged the request wordlessly, legs crossed neatly, staring with something that might even have been interest at my hands as I plucked at the strings, pleased to find it was still in tune. I caught his eye after a moment and smiled.

"You liked Arpeggio, huh? I named him..." I explained quickly, hoping I wasn't going to start blushing instantly, although that seemed inevitable. But my sitar was my pride and joy in my life, why shouldn't he have a name? Or a gender, for that matter. "He's pretty sweet, don't ya think?"

The reply was a quiet nod, and another thin smile, and I found myself relieved that he seemed to be a little more relaxed around me than before. Maybe I really was going to make a friend.

Absentmindedly, I began to play a soft, improvisational melody, the notes drifting quietly on the feeble breeze, revelling in the tranquillity of the whole affair, as I always seemed to do whenever I played in the fields. The clean, soothing scent of foliage wafted up softly from the buttercups beneath us, and I speculated vaguely over whether it was all having the same effect on Zexion. I know that I could've sat there and played forever.

After a couple of minutes, I heard a long sigh from behind me, and stopped playing, quickly looking to my companion, whose ice blue eyes were distant again, his angular face serene. I waited for perhaps an explanation for the seemingly troubled sound, momentarily gripped by a paranoia that I might have annoyed him.

"Music's such a beautiful thing..." he whispered eventually, barely audible, despite the stillness of everything. "It's amazing, isn't it..? How it can portray all that emotion... Don't you think?"

I nodded, slightly taken aback by all his sudden sentiment and seriousness. "It – it is... I think sometimes, it can really help people... Strange, really, the effect it can have..."

Zexion nodded quietly again, his gaze suddenly coming back to me, a small smile curling his lips again as he gestured at my sitar. I noticed his slender pianist's fingers properly for the first time; somehow they seemed to add even more to his fragile appearance. He seemed so breakable, even in physical being, not to mention all the pain I knew laid underneath the surface. It almost made me nervous, strange as that sounds. It was like one more unexpected gust of wind could scatter him.

"Anyway... Keep playing. You're very talented, it sounded impressive..."

I knew I was blushing now, the way I always did when praised for anything, obediently dipping my head to stare at the strings again as I resumed the spontaneous song, smiling faintly as I heard another, more peaceful sigh from my friend. It was so nice to know that he appreciated it. And so nice to know that we had some common interests, as well; I had feared that today might be just as awkward as the previous evening. But so far, so good.

I continued to play quietly, allowing my eyes to fall slowly closed, continuing to mostly hope for the best with regards to the tune, vaguely proud of how all the notes were falling so comfortably into place with each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Zexion lying back among the golden flowers, hands behind his head, and very slowly and carefully I allowed myself to fall back as well, still playing, trusting my hands to move to the correct notes still.

We lay like that for several minutes, until eventually I fell silent, shifting Arpeggio off of myself and rolling onto my side to quietly observe my companion, who, to my surprise, was already doing the same thing to me. It seemed just a bit too romantic, but for some reason I did nothing to try and amend this, and we merely stared at each other for several long moments.

"Thank you for agreeing to hang out with me today," he murmured after a while, his gaze finally dropping from mine, to the buttercups in front of his face, absentmindedly plucking a few and twirling them between his fingers. "It means a lot more than you might think..." His hand curled into a loose fist, and he crumbled the petals vacantly, a rain of yellow dust falling from between his fingers.

I just nodded in acknowledgement. "Oh, that's ok... It's nice to do something with someone my own age... All the kids in the village are younger than me, and my friends have gone away for the summer..." I shifted slightly, almost feeling embarrassed about saying the rest. But I wanted him to know it. "Also... You sounded like you needed a distraction from... Everything, what with Xion..."

He nodded, and a light shiver of sadness, like a shadow, seemed to pass over his face for just a split second, which he quickly covered up. I found myself saddened by it; he shouldn't have to hide all his misery. He deserved someone to cry with. It was obvious enough that he needed to. "Yes... Yes, thank you... I really do appreciate it a great deal. Thank you."

I tried to smile again; after all, I was commonly known as the king of happy-go-lucky. "Hey, no problems, right? That's what friends are for."

"I've never really had proper friends before..." Zexion murmured. "Certainly not recently. But you seem good, and kind. I'm glad we can be friends..."

No wonder he'd seemed so inept and awkward around me yesterday, I mused. I tried to think what kind of state I'd be in, had I not had friends all these years. It didn't really bear thinking about. Another stab of pity hit me.

Trying to make it look genuine, I managed to force out the smile I wanted. "Well, of course we can. Demyx and Zexion. We're friends now, let's hope it lasts."

"Let's."


	3. Chapter 3  Thursday

Thursday morning came with tidings of yet more glorious sunlight, and for some time after I woke up I merely lay there, basking in the rays which gilded my bed and thinking deeply and peacefully. The sheer tranquillity of the gentle heat was phenomenal.

I caught myself wondering if Zexion was awake yet; he certainly didn't seem like the type to sleep in, especially since he was technically on a holiday of sorts. Although, it was of course a holiday I knew he'd rather not be having. There it was again, the odd tugging of sadness and sympathy on my heart. He was so young, and so pure, and so mild. It seemed like a truly unearthly crime that such misfortune had been bestowed upon him.

And, just like the previous day, I found myself helplessly worried for him, and what would come next; he was so subdued and shy already, what this might do to him didn't bear thinking about. Presumptuous as it sounded, I couldn't help but feel that he seemed like the sort of person that, when pushed beyond their limit, snapped into a thousand pieces and were pressed to terrible things by more tragedy. So what if I barely knew the guy – I felt compelled to be his friend from the first moment we met, and the thought of him in pain was not one I appreciated at all.

That was why I was going to be company for him this week until he left on Sunday; and maybe after that, too. There was no reason why we shouldn't stay in touch, after all. I wanted to at least try to play some small part in keeping him safe – I had to.

Dragging my mind away from the poor, lonely boy for a few minutes, I wondered vaguely what all my normal friends were doing on holiday. They'd all jetted off to exotic places the moment school was out, and I hadn't heard a thing from them since. Presumably they were enjoying themselves, though. It was odd to think that at first, I'd been disappointed that I myself wasn't going away to some sultry far-off place; now that I'd met Zexion, my relief that I'd stayed home felt almost infinite. I had a friend none of the others would have the privilege of meeting; a friend in need. A friend who I'd made it my duty to help! That was definitely a very special, if alien, feeling.

It suddenly occurred to me that my plans of thinking about my school friends had gone totally awry; I was back to thinking about my newest buddy already. He seemed to hold my attention somehow... I felt kinda bad that this was probably mostly due to the dramatic nature of his life. But no, of course it was more than that... It was friendship, it was... It was almost like attraction. But... Surely it _wasn't _attraction. Surely.

My mind refused to wander from this point onwards, and eventually I gave up on any further musings and decided to get out of bed, smiling absently at the vague Demyx-shaped indent I left behind in the mattress. I trailed out of my room and down the landing towards the bathroom for my usual morning rituals, wondering as I did so what I'd do today. I had a feeling there was some coursework I needed to catch up on, but... The sunlight was far too inviting to do any of that today. I knew I was just finding ways to dissuade myself, as I'd done every day so far of the summer, but there honestly were more interesting things I could be doing today – besides, this was England. You never can tell when the weather might break in England. You're wise to enjoy a sunny spell while you can.

Perhaps I would go down to the river again and just laze around there for a while. It seemed like a suitable waste of my time, and I never did tire of the water. Hopefully the village kids wouldn't be around again, or be playing somewhere else – not that I didn't like them, I did; I just enjoyed calm while I was swimming, especially in my current rather serious mindset.

I stopped in front of the full-length mirror inside the bathroom, casually observing my reflection, awarding positives and negatives to myself where I saw fit. I'd definitely exercised myself into a more graceful shape in recent weeks, and the sun had graced me with a light, pleasing tan. It was certainly nice to be able to see things I was happy with about myself for once; usually I struggled pretty hard beyond liking my eyes, and sometimes my hair.

Once I was refreshingly washed and clean, I returned to my room, quickly slipping into a pair of loose, comfortable board shorts and an equally baggy t-shirt. There was no point in dressing up smartly if it was all only going to get soaked anyway. I plodded downstairs, bag in hand, and quickly stocked up on everything I'd need until teatime; lunch, a drink, and my usual scruffy towel. I decided against bothering with breakfast – I never felt much like eating in the mornings. Besides, the river was calling.

I slipped on my sandals and tumbled out of the front door, waving an absentminded goodbye to my mother as I went, and receiving the customary instruction to have a good day. I smiled faintly; she made it sound more like I was off to a hard day's work rather than a leisurely lazing-around session.

Despite my earlier daydreaming, it was still early enough that there was nobody around as I passed through the quiet village streets. Early morning was one of the best times to see the village, in my opinion. With the weak first light, everything looked almost too pretty to be true; like a toy town, with toy cars and toy plants, sprinkled with dew so artfully that it almost seemed plausible fairies had done it.

I traipsed quietly down towards the little stream I was so very fond of, deciding I'd take the longer route, seeing as I had the time. The outskirts of the village soon melted seamlessly into the fields and dainty copses of trees, the silence gradually being replaced by birdsong and the odd, low notes from sleepy cattle. Trusting both my feet and my memory, I allowed my eyes to fall shut for a few moments as I walked, smiling vaguely at how the experience of the summer morning could be beautiful even without seeing it.

I opened my eyes again for the final part of my journey; no matter how well I knew my surroundings, I didn't trust myself to scrabble down the last pock-marked hill without my sight. That was perhaps one step further than my sensibility would allow.

As I began my descent, I noticed to my almost boundless surprise that there was already someone down there, on the other side of the river, nestled among the bulrushes, one sandal-clad foot skimming the water slowly. A large book lay open in their lap, which they appeared to be poring over intently. I squinted curiously, instantly intrigued by them – I guess that was just my damned inquisitiveness again.

It didn't take much nosy gawping before I realised, recognizing the dark mop of hair, and as I did so, an irrepressible wave of excitement, bordering on total delight, washed over me. Zexion!

Quickly trying to suppress my overreaction, I began to scuffle down the hill a little bit faster, eager to go talk to him, just presuming he'd want to talk back. Well, it was at least worth a try.

I quickly pattered over the bridge towards him, calling out as I got closer; I didn't want to yell, after all. He looked up with something bordering on surprise, having clearly not heard me coming, shutting his heavy tome slowly and watching me interestedly as I sat down beside him.

"Demyx… I wasn't expecting to see you today," he murmured. As ever, his voice was soft and melodic, flattened by his grief, but still so very likable. To me, at least. I smiled in as friendly a manner as I could, dangling my legs into the water and flexing my toes slowly in the cool current.

"Wasn't expecting to see you either," I replied, turning my gaze to the river, and to the vague shimmers I could see under the surface; fish, of course, but they still looked oddly eerie.

Zexion was quiet for several long moments, expression thoughtful as he stared at the little ripples with me, eventually breaking the silence with that entrancing voice, instantly granting him all of my attention.

"So… What are you doing here today?" he whispered, icy blue eyes distant, although I could tell he was listening for whatever I would say.

"Oh, well… Nothing much, I guess…" I mumbled. "I've come down here pretty much every day so far of the holidays… I just swim, and think, and… Things…" I trailed off for a few moments. "Kinda repetitive, really. But I'm not your typical teen, I don't like sitting inside all day… I like the outdoors."

My companion nodded quietly, expression very neutral; although I was reasonably used to that already. "I can understand that. Especially when you live in such a beautiful place… I'd love to be able to come at sit by streams and think all day, but where I'm from… It's just not possible." He smiled mirthlessly. "But at least it means that this…holiday… is even more special, I suppose."

I could tell his words would hatch an awkward silence, and they did. We sat quietly for an uncomfortable length of time, both of us knowing well that it was not a friendly silence, which I could've endured. Eventually, the smaller boy deemed it must end, to my relief, and sighed heavily.

"Ah, but it's no use, really. I can't fool myself into enjoying this, no matter how hard I try." His words were low as ever, but tinged with a bitterness that I couldn't ignore.

I struggled with myself, uncertain of what to say. My instinctive reaction, whenever I could feel someone's sadness, was generally to wrap my arms around them and let them cry on me until they were better. But those people tended to be my best friends, or my little sister. Zexion was, even if I did feel this strange bond to him, more or less just an acquaintance at this point. Hugging him was probably totally out of the question. Even my long-term friends rejected such actions a lot of the time. I sat quietly, trying to find words of condolence.

"…I'm so sorry," I just breathed in the end, feeling my face flush red as I did so; I couldn't believe, after all that thinking, that something lame and unhelpful had still fallen out of my mouth. Unbelievable.

"Not your fault," came the quiet reply, just like before. My eyes flitted sideways briefly to check his face for – well, anything. He was staring into the river with a blankness that almost scared me; as if he wanted nothing more than to just disappear into its depths, and never surface again. He fingered the delicate pewter chain around his neck vacantly, and yet again, the sympathy for him, bordering on pain, stabbed me forcefully, right in the heart.

The way he was nervously busying his hands made me anxious, too. Even two days ago, he'd seemed so very detached, safe inside barriers of his mind I suspected he himself had set up as protection. But now, it was as if they were starting to break. Little by little, his growing panic seemed to be escaping. Now, maybe that was just my pessimism, but to my sensitive mind, it was as if that downward spiral I'd predicted had already begun.

I waited, and hoped, and prayed, for him to say something else. But the air stayed silent, but for the river and the kingfishers in the reeds, for a long, long time. I knew he would only speak when he was ready. But I could tell that right now, he wasn't ready for anything.


	4. Chapter 4  Friday

It was a very long wait, but eventually Zexion had spoken again. We had agreed to meet up again the following day, in the Yellow Meadow, at midday. And then, small victory having been achieved, we had fallen into mournful silence again.

And so that was how I came to find myself sitting at noon on Friday in that field of purest golden flora, waiting with bated breath for my friend to arrive.

I didn't care to admit to myself that the curious feeling in my chest was excitement, or nervousness; of course I didn't. What reason was there for any of that, after all?

As I stared out across the endless sea of flowers, I wondered quietly if Zexion really did see them as being as beautiful and optimistic as I did. Their vibrancy was in such contrast to the torments inside him, their lustrous glow so much brighter than the stars in his eyes.

Did he see them like false hope, trying to distract him from an eventuality he could not prevent?

I tried to brush such miserable thoughts from my mind. I had already decided that around Zexion, I must always act as cheerful and playful as possible, even if it didn't reflect how I felt inside. The poor kid scarcely needed my own thoughtfulness atop his own, after all.

I lay back into the masses of rich yellow fauna, staring up at the azure sky and playing absentmindedly with the many charms and bracelets adorning my wrist, beginning to become impatient for my friend's arrival. I wondered what we might talk about today; if, indeed, we were going to talk much at all. Yesterday certainly hadn't been full of nonstop chatter. But then, how could I expect such?

Considering the utter silence of my surroundings, it wasn't particularly surprising when I eventually heard the soft footfalls signalling the small, slate-haired boy's arrival, and sat up slowly to see him, feeling a slightly goofy, unnecessary smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. He looked even more fragile and feeble than the previous day, but at least he had come. And I was here for him; maybe I could alleviate some of that melancholy from him, if he asked me to. In the back of my head, I knew that this was one person who would _never _ask for help, but the point still stood. I would try to save him, if he allowed it.

"Hey…" I murmured softly, keeping a small smile plastered to my face as best I could while Zexion settled himself down delicately by my side. I received a quiet nod in reply, and for a moment I panicked; I didn't want it to be all silence right from the start..! But luckily for me, his lips parted just a moment later, the soft voice carrying easily. It didn't matter how many times I heard it; I simply couldn't get over the beautiful, soft quality of it – like a flute or an ocarina, delicately played – minimalistic, perhaps, but as pretty a sound as ever I'd heard.

"And how are you today, Demyx?" The question was spoken pleasantly, and I guessed that he was trying to get away from the troubles he had left in the B&B as quickly as he could, trying to absorb himself in my life instead of his. Fair enough, I could manage that for him.

"I'm fine, thanks," I grinned quickly, picking at the buttercups between us and vacantly starting to create a chain from them, enjoying the cool stroke of the silken petals over my fingertips. "Had to spend a lot of my evening doing coursework, though… It's not something I enjoy."

This prompted a small smile from my friend, who quietly began to create a flower chain of his own, barely even seeming to see what his fingers were doing as he worked. "No… Forgive me, but you don't exactly seem like the academic type."

I laughed softly, shaking my head to show I wasn't offended. "Not even close, I'm afraid. I'd prefer to just kick back with my sitar or go for a swim, anytime… Intense stuff like coursework kinda ticks me off, you know? What with all those deadlines, and…"

I trailed off, shaking my head slowly, devoting some more attention to the growing string of buttercups in my hands. I was itching to ask how Zexion was, too; it was just the norm in conversations, after all. If someone enquires as to how you are, you ask back. I didn't want to seem rude and not ask him. On the other hand, his little sister was dying and his mother had no time to listen to her son's problems. He was not in a good place, and he wanted to forget. I knew this. I still wanted to ask.

But I think Zexion could sense what was going through my mind, and he gave me an answer without me even needing to voice the question out loud. I had to admire, just for a split second, how perceptive he could be. He hid it well, but it was certainly there.

"Ah, I'm all right… It's good to be here. You're very pleasant company, you know…"

I had to fight to restrain a small moan at his words. As it was, I couldn't help but flinch a little. I didn't really know what I had expected to hear. But hearing a lie, and knowing it was a lie… Another of those curious stabs of pain twisted in my stomach.

I wanted so badly to confront him about it. I wanted to _help _him; I didn't want to just sit here and listen to him trying to fool us both into thinking he was _all right_. It just wasn't true, damnit! And I think he could tell, too, that I'd seen through his lie at once. He was silent, waiting for my reaction.

I struggled with myself internally for a few moments, eventually letting out a long sigh, trying to focus solely on my hands as I spoke.

"You're not, are you? You're not all right. We both know that."

My words came out flat and lifeless, but tinged with a sympathy and concern I hoped he would hear. I didn't want to just watch him hiding things from me. I wanted him to let me do something, anything, to help him. But almost immediately, running my words over in my head, I began to doubt myself; had that been a step too far? I'd never had to deal with a situation like this before. Had it been right to be so blunt like that?

Zexion remained static and terribly quiet for several long moments, long enough that I looked up from my forlorn little flower-creation, sudden worry streaking through me as I raised my head. I had gone too far, hadn't I? He must be angry now.

I turned my head almost nervously to the side to see him, already ready with an apology in my head. But the sight that greeted me was far more frightening than I had expected, and not for the reason I anticipated.

He was crying.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but they were certainly there; tiny, pearly droplets smearing down those pale cheeks, leaving behind shining trails and wet, spiky eyelashes. I was utterly bemused; he was like a stone, so emotionless, so solid and brave. Stones didn't ever cry. Zexion couldn't cry either, surely!

It took me a few seconds, but eventually I managed to get myself past the confusion, and onto the next phase. So, he _could _cry, but I didn't _want_ him to.

He'd probably just throw me off if I tried to hug him, or hold him in any way. But, at the same time... I didn't know what else to do. And there was no way I was just going to sit here and do nothing.

Tentatively, I shuffled up closer to the boy and wrapped my arms around him, holding his body awkwardly to my own, not wanting to touch him more than necessary at this stage, in case he decided he didn't like me being there. Which, to be honest, I would fully understand; I was being stupid. I barely knew the guy. I shouldn't be getting inside his personal space like this just yet. I thought, briefly, about backing off a little.

But before I could fully comprehend what was happening, the boy had all but crawled into my lap, clinging like a baby to my t-shirt, hands curled into tight fists in the material as he sobbed into my clothing. They were ugly, choked sounds, and if it had been me, I would've despaired if anybody else had ever heard them. But I supposed, as he wailed softly into my body, that he was just too far gone to care about that; he'd been brave for too long.

This was it, then. The combined factors which had been tormenting him had at last put a deep crack into his armour, and now here was all the pain he'd bottled up, leaking out like blood from a knife wound onto the closest warm-bodied thing - me.

The little mewls and whimpers of anguish got more and more insistent as I pulled him closer to my body, rocking gently, and they grated on my slightly panicked mind. I didn't like hearing him in pain, not at all. I wondered what to do, and eventually fell to just rocking and making pathetic hushing sounds under my breath. That might calm him, mightn't it? Something had to. I couldn't let him continue crying. That would not do.

The unbearable tears continued softly, and hesitantly, I tried to push my face closer into the little ball of weeping teenager. I wanted him to look at me; I wanted to see his eyes, and for him to see mine, and for him to know that I wanted to help him, _please_.

I hadn't realised just how close I'd gotten to his face, but suddenly I felt my nose brushing against the soft skin on the other side of that thick, secretive fringe; skin I had never actually seen. I could smell his unique, vague scent, mixed with the frantic tears still scurrying down his face, and quite suddenly, I felt something bizarre stirring in my chest; I had no idea what it was, but I think it may have been linked to what happened next.

Zexion twitched as he felt our skins collide, clearly unused to the proximity of another person, and for a split second I thought about retreating. I couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell his thoughts exactly; but what I did know what that he was already upset, and I certainly didn't want to worsen things.

But he didn't give me the chance to turn away. His face whipped around in a way so jerky it seemed almost feral, and our lips met.

I froze up, completely. I had never been in this situation before, and I had no idea what was expected of me. Did he want me to react, to stay still – _what? _

He didn't move away by the time a couple of seconds had passed, and so I could only conclude that this was no accident after all. The realisation seemed to soothe my frozen facial muscles, and suddenly I felt myself responding, without even putting any thought in. My lips parted quietly, just a fraction, and I tilted my head slightly, giving him an easier angle of attack – if you could call it that. His approach to the kiss was far less delicate than my own, his lips moving against mine in a way that seemed oddly desperate; although that barely mattered right now. All that mattered was the contact itself, existing, however little I had expected it to ever happen. Hell, I hadn't even known I wanted it to happen.

Eventually, the sweet pressure on my mouth began to decrease, and our faces moved apart. I heard my own soft, shaking breaths, and accompanying them, quiet sniffs and whines from Zexion. Of course – I had almost forgotten the state he had been in prior to the – the kiss. Our kiss. I could hardly believe it had actually happened, it was so improbable.

My arms were still locked tightly around the smaller boy, and just as I looked down into his face again, he looked up. Tears tracks were still sparkling on his face, and his mouth hung slightly open, breath coming in small, ragged sobs. Despite this, I couldn't help but remark to myself that he was sort of – beautiful. I reached up, wiping away the spatterings of sadness as best I could, earlier apprehension all but forgotten. There was something in his bluebell eyes which I couldn't place, a slightly wild, detached look which unnerved me slightly; but I could overlook it, for now.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered eventually, head ducking away in shame. "I don't know how I can explain myself..."

"You don't need to," I murmured, truthfully, refusing to let go of his body yet. "You didn't do anything wrong, did you?"

"But..." There was hesitance in his tone, as if he had some kind of ulterior motive behind it all which I wasn't allowed to hear. I decided, again, that I could let it slide. He was just embarrassed, perhaps? After all, it didn't seem to be in his nature to share any of his pain or feelings. "...Thank you so much, Demyx. Most people would have pushed away an advance like that..."

"Yeah, well..." Now it was my turn to feel awkward, at a loss for words. "I... Let's just say... I find you quite – interesting. Catch my drift?"

The quiet boy offered a small smile to show he understood, before squirming away from me slightly, back onto solid ground, eying me seriously. "I know I am certainly invading upon your plans for the summer a lot recently... But do you think, perhaps... We could meet again, tomorrow?"

"Of course," I mumbled, instantly frustrating myself. My breathlessness, the sudden delight, was beyond pathetic. "Maybe we could go back to my house for a while."

"I would like that," Zexion replied, his gaze turning back to the dazzling sky above us, eyes resuming their normal vacancy and serenity. "Tomorrow is my last full day here. If you can distract me just for one more tiny day, Demyx... I'll be in your debt forever."

I smiled at this, regardless of the seriousness threatening to swallow us both up. "Hey, hey... Friends, right? No debts."


	5. Chapter 5  Saturday

And so it was that late on Saturday afternoon, just as the sky was beginning to colour with twilight, myself and my newest friend – boyfriend? – were trudging across the fields and down the wooded paths again, until at last we came to my home.

I had to admit to myself that I was feeling pretty nervous, actually, for a number of fundamentally ridiculous reasons. What if he didn't like my house? What if he didn't like my room? What if things got awkward while we were in my room and we just ended up sitting there? I mean, I didn't really know what I expected us to get up to, anyway, but…

I knew all my panics were probably completely stupid, but it didn't mean I couldn't worry myself over them. My one less stupid concern was what my mum was going to think; she had nothing against homosexuality, but I got the impression that she'd probably get the correct end of the stick about Zexion pretty quickly, and that just felt…awkward. Still, she might just nod and smile and think he was only my friend. That would be preferable.

My mind was still utterly freaking as we reached the house, and our conversation came to an untimely end as I attempted to find my keys, breaking off into a short spell of quiet, tuneful swearing as I dug in my pockets. Eventually I located them and crammed them into the lock, able to feel my face flushing. What a wonderful showcase of my smoothness. Yeah. Brilliant. Polite as always, however, Zexion simply offered me a gentle, kind smile as I ushered him into my house.

As I had expected, my mother came bumbling in from the kitchen to welcome me home as usual, her face all wreathed in smiles, and that ruddiness that only the British seem to acquire to quite that degree in summer. I don't know how we do it. It's not even like our summers are especially hot. But still we ripen like tomatoes.

…Anyway.

My mother's eyes fall first upon me, and then the shy little person tagging along behind me, and I could almost feel her maternal instinct reaching out to touch his pallid, drawn cheeks. She's one of those mums. Whenever I bring a feeble looking friend home, she's in there at once, feeding them up and smiling and cooing. It can get sort of embarrassing.

"Who's your friend?"

I'd have rolled my eyes, but I love my mum enough to accept that she probably did _mean _to welcome me home first. She just… Well, forgot. I stepped to one side, holding out my arms towards my mother and boyfriend.

"Mum, this is Zexion. He's staying at the B&B for a few days with his – family. We made friends the other day. Zexion, this is my mum, she's… My mother."

Zexion blinks at me; I guess he was probably expecting something slightly less illiterate. I grinned sheepishly in reply. I really suck at introductions.

"Oh, well, I'm pleased to meet you, Zexion!" my mum cried joyfully, moving forwards to shake his hand. I tried not to cringe, but Zexion handled it better than I would've done, a gentlemanly smile on his face as he gave her one of those firm man-shakes. After a moment, both of them looked back at me in an expectant sort of way. I attempted not to flounder in my own incompetence, tempting though it was.

"…Uhm… Yeah, we were just gonna go hang out upstairs for a while… Y'know, since it'll be dark soon-ish…" In about four hours, actually. But I was hoping my mum would just accept it. To my relief, she seemed to swallow it all happily.

"All right, boys. Zexion, will you be wanting dinner here, or…?"

The little slate haired boy held up his hands quickly, and with a twinge I could feel that reflex now conditioned into him – _I must not cause a fuss I must not cause a fuss I must not cause a fuss, not ever. _I'd have told him not to be so worried, but to make any hints towards his mental upsets with my mum present would've resulted in inevitable mothering. And while I think Zexion was probably in need of some of that, it would've been a whole lot better coming from his own mother.

"Oh, no thank you, ma'am," he murmured quickly – so bloody polite..! "I'll be heading home before it gets that late, I expect."

Before my mum had time to object at all, he'd already flashed her one of his utterly dazzling smiles, and as you could well imagine, that effectively nullified any chance of argument from her.

I'm already about halfway up the stairs at this point, and I reached over the banister to lightly poke the smaller male's hair, smiling gently at him as he turned around. "C'mon, then, if you're gonna make a quick getaway, we should make the most of now, right?"

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't the smile he graced me with in return. It felt good. He nodded, and moved to follow me up the stairs to my bedroom. It's on the top floor of the house, which I've always liked. My house is pretty old, and we don't have an attic or anything, but all that's on the top floor is my bedroom, which is pretty big, and my own bathroom. It means that, apart from food, I'm reasonably self-sufficient up there. And it's the most beautiful place to dream, too. Especially at this time of day, in the summer. I hoped Zexion'd like it too.

We reached the top floor, and I quietly padded across the wooden floorboards – old, creaking, rustic and fabulous – to open my door, and just like earlier, I ushered him in. My precious guest.

The windows are directly opposite from my door, stretching across all of one wall, ceiling to floor, and through them was flooding every shade of spoiled Helios; deep reds, sultry oranges, warm colours bleeding together into rays of crystalline perfection, bathing my room in its entirety, soaking into every surface and giving it a sensuous, calm glow. Everything looks better, safer, softer…sexier, in the twilight. Hopefully Zexion is suitably impressed.

He looked very strange in that light, too; more strikingly than my room. It chiselled those fine features even more gracefully, and in the shattered-mirror of his iris, the colour of sunset melted like liquid glass into the blue. The light streaked through the gaps in his thick fringe, and cast shadows and highlights onto the pearly skin of his face.

… He looked beautiful.

I tried to distract myself, of course. I kicked the door shut behind me, and move over to my bed, flopping down with a deeply unnecessary groan. The plump duvet felt good on my back, and above me, the skylite offered a stunning view of the wispy evening clouds dawdling vaguely overhead.

It was a distraction of sorts, but then Zexion joined me on the bed, on his back. I glanced over at him, so elegantly illuminated by the dying light. He wasn't looking at me, but up at the ceiling. Any of the humour he'd had while downstairs had evaporated, and I could feel the seriousness just seeping out of him as he lay so still.

Eventually he spoke.

"Twilight is so pretty, isn't it…? But… It's sad, too."

He turned his face towards mine for just a moment, eyes so deep and so lost, before looking back to the view from the skylite.

"I'm… Not a superstitious type. But someone told me once that twilight is the only time when we're close to them, when our worlds intersect, just as the sun goes…"

I blinked, and frowned slightly. "Who's them…?"

"The dead."

I paused. Zexion was still facing the sky, and I finally joined him. I didn't know if I could deal with staring at that face any longer. So hopeless. I didn't know what to say. It was an interesting, haunting idea, but he sounded more than intrigued by it. It was kind of unsettling…

We lay in the silence, watching the gold-spun clouds. The silence stretched. The silence broke, finally, in a soft sound almost like a whimper, from beside me.

"…Do you think, soon, I'll be able to feel her here, when the sun goes down?"

_Oh. _Of course, that was why he'd brought it up at all. It was so easy to forget, when he spoke so calmly, how much of him was withering and dying inside. And the kiss, yesterday, that had completely thrown me off, distracted me. But no, of course he was still in just the same pain as he had been when we'd first met. How could I have forgotten that?

I looked towards him sideways. He was looking at me, finally. And while I'd been mentally scorning my amnesia, the tears had started to fall.

I didn't know what else to do. I just opened my arms to him, and he rolled on top of me with his head in my chest, and I held him and held him as he shook and whimpered. I wondered what exactly he was thinking – if indeed, he was thinking at all, beyond the blind hurting. I hoped I was doing enough.

It really was starting to frighten me, though. I might have only known him for a few days, but he'd struck me right away as a secretive, self reliant person. But under the weight of his own personal tragedy, he'd opened himself to me, and I was pretty sure I'd seen the first sparks of insanity in his miserable eyes as he'd cried and as he'd told me, so softly, what his future held for him. And if he was breaking now… What would happen to him when he was alone again, and once Xion was gone…? There was only so much support I could possibly give him from afar. I was so scared of what he might do to himself.

I was absorbed in these thoughts for what must have been quite some time, but eventually something pulled me back to the present, to the now, to fate's punching bag, sobbing on me. It was Zexion's hand. More specifically, it was where Zexion's hand _was_, and the fact that it was _moving_. Quite insistently, actually.

I opened my eyes and looked down towards him. No, it wasn't just my imagination; his hand was in my shirt, scratching softly at my ribs, as if he was awkwardly trying to tease my buttons undone. His face was tilted up towards me again, and as I saw his eyes, I felt a thousand things at once.

Those eyes were like the aurora. They were so, so beautiful, constantly undulating like the river where we'd first met, so bright, so endless.

And yet –

They were cold. There was no lust, there was no affection, or excitement, or any emotion at all I could think to describe. He did not seem hostile, nor friendly. He barely seemed to be there, but what he was trying to do was obvious.

"Z-Zexion…? What're you doing…?" I asked faintly. I wasn't expecting a reply, not really, but I had to ask, just in case.

…And, as I'd thought, no reply came. No verbal reply, certainly. He did change his approach at that point, however, and hardly a second later I felt his spindly fingers dig down under the waistband of my jeans, easily popping them undone from inside. I squeaked; had I been in any other situation I might've been embarrassed by making such a noise, but as it was, there were more pressing matters. Like Zexion pulling down my trousers. What the fuck – pardon my French, if you can pin such a vulgarity on them – was going on…?

"Zexion, s-seriously…" I protested quietly, squirming slightly, before something very much like panic swung into my stomach as I watched him starting to pull at his own jeans. He wasn't going to actually…?

My body, at least, seemed delighted by the prospect. But then, I was a teenage boy, with someone's hand in my pants. It was to be expected.

But my mind was scared. Terrified, even. I'd never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before, I'd never had sex. Hell, I hadn't even really realised I swung towards boys until a couple of days ago. And now, here I was, in a situation which very strongly implied I was about to have sex with one. It was happening… Sort of quickly. I hadn't had Zexion down for taking things like that, to be honest.

…But then, none of this really seemed like Zexion. And that really wasn't helping my nerves.

I would've stopped him, maybe, but he was so insistent, and a part of me wanted to do this. Sure, it was far too early for that, really, and he was upset, and my family were somewhere downstairs, but…

I didn't love him, of course I didn't. Not yet. But… I wanted to. I was scared to reject him, for that reason and for fear of what I might somehow drive him to.

…So I just lay there, and blushed and squirmed and whined, as he got us both naked from the waist down. I could hardly believe any of it was really happening, and I suppose I tried to disconnect a little, too. But eventually I came back to the present because, his efforts complete, Zexion had moved one arm to hold my hand. I knew that one simple gesture didn't really – at all! – justify what he'd done, and what he was going to do, but another brand of delirium was soaking into me now, as well. A little part at the back of my brain was screaming at me to halt the whole thing, but the rest of me was oblivious, drunken.

Zexion's wild eyes met mine for a moment. They scared me. But he was squeezing my hand. So it had to be ok.

"Are you ready, Demyx?"

He didn't wait for an answer. I was halfway through the word "no" when he thrust forward violently, with power I hadn't even been aware he was capable of. And whatever my feelings for him were at that moment, I couldn't ever deny that it hurt more than I could ever have expected.

I was reasonably sure that under more controlled, steady, careful circumstances, it wouldn't have done so, definitely not to the same degree. But as it was, he'd just stripped me and gone for it. And what I couldn't afford to scream out trickled down my cheeks as he set to work properly. I wasn't upset – that wasn't it, not at all. It just hurt, and I was so confused. But underneath that, it did feel – good, like sex is meant to. Just occasionally, I'd let my mouth fall open, and I'd let a noise of general assent slip out. Zexion made similar sounds, and though I can't deny they turned me on, his eyes were still so empty, as if his mind wasn't on this at all. I didn't know how I felt about that. I wished I knew _why_, because maybe then I'd be comfortable.

Through the swirling confusion and pleasure and pain in my head, I could vaguely hear him murmuring, over and over – "I'm in control, I'm in control,", and that sent my fragmented thoughts stumbling into action like nothing else. It was a clue, surely.

Well. He was in control of me, that much was obvious. The way he was reiterating it… Was that because he was trying to convince himself…? As if… As if he wasn't usually in control of anything..?

That was it. Perhaps that was the blankness of his eyes. He had no control over his sister's imminent death, of course. He had no control over his mother's heart, no source from which to seek comfort. Soon, I was doubtless that he wouldn't even have any control over himself.

But he had control now, over me. I was a reminder that even now, in the midst of all his agony, he could still have some dominion over things, somehow.

I was right. His mind was sick and lonely and afraid, and I had offered to try and heal it. And now, maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. But I knew that he was going insane, bit by bit. There was no love in this, and the only pleasure for him from it was carnal, no more.

I knew I shouldn't take this personally, but this realisation still hurt. A lot.

My only pleasure in it was animalistic now, too, with that bitter knowledge in my head. However, our bodies were both sound, if nothing else, and eventually both of us came to a peak, and finally, I felt him relax against me. Almost as if we were a normal couple. The hormones had released into my head, and in that moment of dizziness, pain, relief, confusion, mellowness, whatever else you could call the mess I felt, I said something I didn't mean as he pulled out, reaching instantly for his trousers.

"I love you, Zexion."

I wanted to love him. I knew how I felt about him, despite the shock of what he'd just done. I knew why he'd done it, and it hurt, but I understood. I didn't love him yet, though. But my mind was so addled by everything that I'd said it and now, almost in my subconscious, I was awaiting a reply.

He looked at me for a long moment. Some of the emotion – existence, even – was starting to come back to his eyes, and I thought I saw a flicker of pain. But he redressed in silence, and, without a word or a gesture, left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

He was leaving tomorrow. Was that it? Was that going to be the last time I ever saw him? It couldn't be. _No_.

I lay there, stunned, for several heartbeats. Even they hurt now. I wasn't sure what I had expected him to say, but whatever I'd hoped for hadn't come, and now it felt like I was dying.

I wrapped myself up, half naked, in my duvet, and in the coming dark I rocked myself until the tears had run dry and I fell into an aching, miserable sleep.


	6. Chapter 6  Sunday

Usually, when we wake up, there's this short, blissful space of time when we really have no idea about anything. Do you know the feeling of it? The dawn comes filtering in through your eyelashes, and suddenly you're awake; but just for a few minutes, your mind is still - so it seems - asleep. You can feel yourself thinking, but it's all soft like cotton wool, and nothing harmful brings itself to mind. You're just – there. Nothing more, and nothing less, than existing.

I'm as familiar with that feeling as anyone else. But when at last the colours started to stain the sky on Sunday morning, this comforting induction to the day eluded me completely.

I woke up, and it hit me like a train, straight away.

The night before, I'd lost my virginity, totally by accident, to a boy who was being sliced apart from the inside by the mere passage of time towards his sister's death. Worse than that, in my hazy stupor, I'd told him I loved him. Like an idiot; not that I could've helped myself, but it still made me an idiot. And worse still? My proclamation had been met with the simplest of silent silences. He'd just gone.

And a brief glance towards my bedside clock showed me that in just a few more hours, he'd be gone for good. Back to whichever smoggy city he'd come from, with no more distractions from Xion's imminent demise. Nothing at all, not even my pathetic attempts, to stop him from losing what remained of his mind.

I really couldn't bear that thought, not at all. Like I'd thought the night before, I didn't love him yet, that was true. And I'd seen enough failed relationships and unrequited 'loves' and crushes from all my friends to know that love isn't instant, it doesn't come because you want it to, all of a sudden. It's a two-sided thing, and it takes time; the most precious thing you can give someone.

With all of this in mind, it wasn't for me to destroy myself over Zexion's pain. I accepted that. I hadn't known him long enough to love him, and from all I could tell, he didn't return my romantic sentiments anyway.

… But there was still something inside me that desperately wanted to save him, from himself, from everything. As I keep reiterating, I couldn't call it love. But maybe it was something on the way to being love; a transitional stage. A want to protect. A want to be with, to be the saviour for, even if that was so very unlikely in my case.

But, no. I brought myself back to the present sharply, raking my fingernails down my cheek, as if in punishment. I should really stop thinking about all this hurt for us both, my mind reprimanded vehemently. It was no use, after all. I'd already lost him, hadn't I?

There was only so long I could stay curled up in my duvet, curled up in my thoughts, that morning. Not with all this going round and round in my head. I sat up, stood up, found clothes, dressed. I went to the bathroom, washed my face and brushed my teeth. I went back to my room, and yanked on my shoes. The laces trailing, I took my house keys and headed down the stairs.

It was too early for anyone else to be up; rightly so, as the midsummer sun had barely even risen. The living room was quiet, just starting to be gilded with the first rays of light, chasing away the shadows inch by inch. I opened the front door, stepped outside, and locked it behind me. Maybe the chill of the morning air would clear my head, clear my heart; if nothing else, I could always hope. I knew where I was going.

I started walking, my mind still fretting elsewhere; but my feet knew the way, and they guided my wandering head patiently to my destination.

Like I'd expected of such an early, cool hour of the day, the bridge was silent. A silver haze hung low over the river, hiding the sleeping fish. Between the bulrushes were strung brand new spider webs, glistening with dew, some of them not even quite finished. The birdsong had not yet started up properly for the day, though the occasional stray call still echoed through the mist. Accustomed as I was to the River Myde's beauty, it was something truly special at this secret time of day.

This was the place I'd come almost every day this summer. It was _my _place. Surely, if I was going to find a supreme level of tranquillity anywhere, it'd be here.

I sat myself down in the centre of the bridge, legs dangling over the edge – just like I'd done a few days ago, the first time I'd met… Well. It wouldn't do to think about that right now. I looked up slowly, following the path of the river, my eyes following every tiny kink in it. Gradually it shrank into the distance, seemingly near the base of a small cluster of hills on the horizon. If I squinted, I could just about see my house perched upon the top of one.

It was so still.

After a few more minutes of observing all the details of my surroundings, I eventually just let my eyes fall shut; maybe I could refresh my mind with the little sounds all around me, too. I listened out for anything and everything, trying to lose myself in nature. Maybe this was why people at school thought I was odd, because of my adoration for the world, but I really couldn't have cared less. They only picked it out because it wasn't like them; more like me instead.

Of course I don't want to draw attention to something which is generally regarded as distasteful to bring up in conversation, but it was quite difficult to focus on anything for any length of time, owing to the sudden spasms of pain which assaulted my rear end whenever I shifted at all. Just remembering the cause made me blush, before a second jerk of recollection would streak through me as I remembered _exactly_. It hurt just as much as the physical discomfort. And then, naturally, I would try to distract myself again, with the river and trees and sky. And then the whole cycle would begin afresh, within a number of short minutes.

In short, my attempts at trying to forget, until he was properly gone from this place, were not getting anywhere. And of course, in the end, I just gave up.

At that exact moment, everything seemed to flood over me at once. The dam broke, and all my own anguish mixed with what I felt of Zexion's, and the hopelessness of it all noosed tight around my throat. I curled over myself, arms tight around my waist as if trying to cuddle myself better, my head hung low, legs still kicking out of time above the water passing by.

The tears fell again. Just like the previous evening, but this time there was so much more to fuel them. Everything there was to cry about in my little universe had come crashing down as sudden as a supernova. And here it was, bleeding out through my eyes.

I don't know how long I sat there shaking, but when I finally looked up again through blurring eyes, it was to see that the dawn was lifting now. The sun was still low, but it was up properly now. The greyed-out world was colouring, slowly. But what had roused me from my private world of misery, in my own arms? It even took me a moment to realise.

The sound of footsteps. Close, the sound of someone walking through short grass and over dry, hard ground. Then the sound changed; shoes on wood and chicken mesh. Shoes on my bridge.

Since it was now so close to me, my mind dully supposed it should be vaguely curious, and I slowly looked up from my river, trickling ever so discreetly below me – us. The sun's glare blinded me for a couple of seconds, but eventually I managed to see through it. The person standing above me wasn't too far above me, actually; someone short. Someone short with a curtain of stormcloud hair covering one side of his gaunt, pale face, and eyes like thin ice, tinted by the ocean of water below.

He'd known I would be here.

"Zexion."

I heard myself say it, but it didn't feel like I did; in my head, panic had settled weirdly into my mind. Perhaps it was an overreaction – in fact, I'm pretty sure it was – but his being here was the one thing I really hadn't expected. When we combine that with the fact that I'd been trying to forget he existed, it's not really a surprise that my brain was more than a little unsettled by him being there.

I stood up, very slowly, wiping the tears from my cheeks. Zexion's eyes were on mine all the time, and mine on his. All the morning sounds, of birds and rivers and the smallest of rain-spatters, fell away to nothingness. An eternity of shock and silence seemed to pass before, at last, his pale lips parted.

"I wanted to apologise, Demyx."

I don't know what to say. Of course I don't. How can I reply to that, after all? So I just kept staring at him, wondering if maybe he'd be able to read whatever showed up in my eyes. That might help… Maybe?

"What I did was horrible. I just – didn't know what to do, and I was scared and angry and everything else, and… I forced it all upon you, and that was the worst thing I could've done, and I just wanted to try and- be in control of _s-something_, just for once, and I just needed to tell you how sorry I am, and-"

I finally found my voice. I had to stop him, else he'd carry on and on, and I didn't want to add guilt to his list of pains. Summoning my courage, I reached up a hand, pressed a finger to those soft lips.

"I understand why you did it," I whispered, and his eyes seemed to acquire a sudden sheen of wetness. I wondered if he'd cry again; he'd been remarkably composed about it so far, and if _I _felt kinda tearful now, then surely he did.

"Seriously, I do. And I'd never condone what you did - I'm not saying it's the right thing, no way, but… I promise I understand. I'm just glad that maybe -" I cut off for a moment, and swallowed. This was going to be the hardest part so far, I was pretty damn sure about that. "… Maybe I helped you, just a little…" I tried to blink, but my eyes stayed shut, my eyelids squeezing tight together as I tried to halt the flow of moisture straining to get out again. My hand fell from Zexion's face, and both clung to his clothes. I tried desperately to hold it all back. I had this sad certainty that I wasn't going to succeed.

I quivered and clung on tight to him for several long moments, and eventually I felt something amazing – his arms, snaking around my body. Holding me, tightly, against him. His chin went on top of my head as I shook and whimpered, and I heard him sigh heavily, felt the breath gust through my hair.

"… Last night… You said that you loved me, didn't you…?"

My head jerked instantly, and I stuttered a little as I tried to find the words to explain myself without sounding completely idiotic, staring at his chest. To my surprise, however, he didn't give me time to complete an alibi.

"… I don't want to sound like I know everything, because I can assuredly say that I don't… But I don't think you_ love_ me, certainly not just yet. I think that maybe you have feelings for me, though..?"

This time, it seemed less rhetorical. I nodded dimly, feeling a weak blush coming into my cheeks even through all of my misery. To my utter shock, a tiny smile quirked the corner of Zexion's mouth. I blinked, confused by it.

"I thought so. I… Suppose I have feelings for you too."

I looked up, meeting his eyes again. Was he serious…? Well, of course he was _serious – _he always was. But… He actually meant that…? It seemed so… Against-all-odds. So fairytale. And then I saw the twist go out of his lips, and I knew he wasn't finished yet.

"… I kind of… Suspected you might return how I felt about you, and that's another part of why I'm here now. I wanted to say, before I left… Forget about me. Please, please, Demyx, forget."

The sincerity was in his voice but the words – how could he ever mean them…? How could he expect me ever to adhere to them? I needed to help him, I needed to save him and care for him until he was ready to fall in love with me. That was how it had to be. How could he expect me to be able to do anything else, after getting as involved with his life as I had…?!

I choked on my own tongue.

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" I stammered, watching his azure eyes in utter disbelief. He stared back evenly; his boldness, I supposed, was proof enough of how serious he was, but… Still. "A-after all this..? After us exchanging how we feel about each other..? When your sister's – the way she is, and you're crying to total strangers because you're so goddamn afraid of the future?" My voice had risen, purely in my coming hysteria, and I hurriedly wiped my eyes on the back of my hand before anything could slide down my cheeks.

There was a long pause while Zexion stared at me, and I just started to cry. _Again. _Humiliating as it was, I really couldn't help myself.

"Yes, Demyx, I want you to forget," he whispered again, and I felt those arms curling around me again. "I'll tell you why, though. Because… I don't expect you to believe me, but you're the very best sort of person. Honestly… And as a result of you being like that, you could never deserve anything less than the absolute best, for a partner. And – that's just not me."

I couldn't even bring myself to look up. My face pressed against him, tears darkening patches on his clothes, I demanded, "Why isn't it? You did something wrong, that doesn't lessen you as a person…! It means you made a mistake, Zexion!"

I heard a soft, humourless chuckle from above me. "I made a huge mistake, Demyx, and I acted selfishly…horribly so." He sighed again, deeply. "I don't deserve someone as golden as you. You deserve to take your time and fall in love with someone who's the best, too, someone who didn't just…exploit you when they were lost." I heard the suppressed hatred in his last words, and cringed from it.

I knew what he was trying to make me see and understand. I could tell he truly wanted me to be happier, and he felt that I'd have to be with someone else for that to happen. But…

"That's not fair," I said thickly, into his hoodie. I could feel him shaking his head.

"No, not really. But at the same time… It is."

I finally managed to pull myself away from him, staring at him properly, wiping my eyes harshly on my sleeve. I hadn't been aware before, but drizzle was just starting to fall slowly around us; not hard rain, just like more insistent fog. I sighed, trying to regain some composure.

"I get what you're trying to say," I mumbled eventually, voice lower than usual as I tried not to let it crack again. "But… Zexion… Please…"

He shook his head. "I want you to have better, Demyx. I want you to look hard for someone who's right, and I want you to fall in love – the proper way."

I sagged. I could tell he wasn't going to let me win.

"…Can we at least keep in touch? … I need to know you're going to be ok, Zexion, I'm so f-fucking scared of -" I didn't want to actually say it, but… Xion. Of course. No more needed to be implied.

The slate-haired boy sighed, but he nodded. "I suppose."

This comforted me just a little, and as I stared at him, he tried to smile; it was a weak effort, but I couldn't help but return my own watery rendition. Far away, or so it seemed, I heard the church bell ring out, proclaiming seven 'o clock to anyone who was awake or who cared. And while I was distracted, Zexion's lips came close and touched mine, one last time.

By the time I properly realised what had happened, he had already backed away a step, a sad smile on his face. He didn't have to say that this was it, and it was time for him to leave. He inclined his head just a little, that silky hair falling to one side so that just for a heartbeat, I could see both of his cerulean eyes.

"Goodbye, Demyx," he whispered. "I'll write you a letter soon, I – promise. Thank you for looking after me."

He turned away, footfalls soft as he began to walk away. It wasn't long before the mist enveloped him - it was getting heavy all around me; the first time I could remember this summer when the night's chill had lasted so long into morning.

Long after he had disappeared and long after his footsteps faded, I stared after him, not knowing how I wanted to react. He wasn't gone forever, at least. I hurt inside, but he'd _promised _to write to me soon. And maybe one day, if we stayed in contact with one another, I could bring him round to the idea of _us_.

There were a lot of unanswered questions. But maybe it'd be ok.

I looked up at last when the rain stopped coming down. In place of the thicker clouds that had been there last time I'd looked, the clear, deep summer sky was there now, and across it, the brightest rainbow I'd ever seen.

Xion was still dying and the boy I was half-in-love with was still bound for a life-shattering event very soon. But it wasn't the end, was it? There were still chapters to come, unwritten. It's never over, unless you let it be over. And I wouldn't let it be over for Zexion.

All would be well. I would see to that.

**Welllll, that's it for Six Days..! I hope you liked it *blush* Whether or not you did, please review it and tell me what you reckon… I tried really hard with this fic, but there's always going to be things I can improve, so feedback is appreciated :3 **

**Also, if you like my work, then I'd really love some hints about what you'd like me to write next..! I love writing Zemyx, obviously, but I'd quite like to try out a new pairing, so… Check my profile page for things I'm likely to write for :P Or tell me on Twitter, 'cause I use that a lot… My username is also on my profile ;3**

**And for anyone even remotely interested, the village Demyx lives in is based on a really beautiful village in Gloucester, England, called Uley. It's an amazing place, Google it. **

… **That just about wraps it up for now. Thanks for reading Six Days~! See you guys soon~! xx**


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